


Four Chances Eli Missed to Tell Veronica How He Really Feels

by shealynn88



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-22
Updated: 2006-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22419991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/pseuds/shealynn88
Summary: Weevil with Veronica, over time.  He never can quite get himself to say those words...
Relationships: Veronica Mars/Eli "Weevil" Navarro
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Four Chances Eli Missed to Tell Veronica How He Really Feels

  
_i._

His head hurts like hell, but he has to know that she's okay. There have been things on the radio…about Aaron Echolls and the girl he killed…and the girl he tried to kill.

Weevil almost dumps his bike three times on the way over. His vision is blurry and all he can think of is making it to her apartment complex.

It's hard to believe that a Mars would leave a key under a plant, but that's where he finds it, and he lets himself in. He probably should knock, but he's too far gone to think about it.

He finds her in her room, sleeping so deeply she doesn't hear him come in. That alone tells him that the night has taken a hell of a toll.

His breathing is suddenly uneven and he's not quite sure why until his knees buckle and tears slide down his cheeks. "Shit," he whispers, his head pounding, his chest aching with a sudden, frightening, revelation.

He reaches out for her, wanting to touch her hair, her cheek. His fingernails are caked with dirt and grease and blood, and his knuckles are swollen. He pulls his hand back, swallowing, and stumbles out the way he came. He locks the door behind him and replaces the key.

She's all right, but suddenly he's not. He's in love with her, and that—more than the beating, more than the concussion, more than any damage he'll ever take for the gang—holds the promise of his destruction.  


_ii._

He can't hide his fury when she mentions Cassidy. The little rat who had been spouting useless crap about spark plugs just two weeks ago. "I wish I'd been there," he says, his jaw clenching. "I swear, that kid woulda regretted the day he was born."

Veronica tips her head. "Yeah, and you'd be behind bars for murder instead of assault, which is apparently all they can pin on you."

"Hey, I just protect what's mine," he growls, before he can think it through.

"Umm…when did _I_ become 'yours?'" She gestures broadly with her hands and then looks at him suspiciously.

 _When you saved my ass,_ he wants to say. _When I fell in love with you._

But he's not that stupid. He'd like to see her again, sometime in the next decade or so. So, instead, he just cocks an eyebrow. "Don't start planning your conjugal visits just yet, V. I just meant…we're friends, you know? When you're not accusing me of crimes I didn't commit."

She laughs. "What, like today?"

He looked down at his hands, grinning. Thumper, he won't deny. She knows him too well to believe it, anyway. "Maybe not today."

_iii._

They're on a stakeout, perched awkwardly under a bridge, waiting for two star-struck lovers that are apparently taking their sweet time getting there. Thank god he remembered to bring coffee this time.

Veronica's shivering next to him, and he swings his jacket around her shoulders without thinking about it, rubbing her arms to help warm her up.

And then he realizes how close they are, and his hands slow on her arms as he watches her eyes flicker over his face in something that might be understanding.

His tongue is suddenly thick with anticipation and uncertainty, because he doesn't know what to say or do, or whether he should just throw caution to the wind and kiss her.

And then the kids they've been waiting for tromp over the bridge and the moment passes.

_iv._

"I'm engaged!" She looks hopeful, like she expects him to smile and go all girly, but it's all he can do not to puke.

Finally, he manages a nod. "Great." His hands are suddenly fascinating—black grease in the nail-beds and scars over his palms and rough calluses where he's been holding wrenches all day. She seems to be waiting for him to say something, and he looks up. "I mean, congratulations. I hope you two are delirious together." He tries not to sound bitter, but he's afraid he hasn't done a great job of it.

Her smile falters slightly. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be happy. Silly of me." She takes a deep breath, and the new smile is cold. "So, back to business. About this case…"

He watches her lips move and hears the echo of years gone by. He's never managed to tell her that he loves her.

Now, he never will.


End file.
